


Miniscule

by petite-neko (petiteneko)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: M/M, vague mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 07:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12722580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petiteneko/pseuds/petite-neko
Summary: Glancing at him, you would never truly fathom just what he was like on the inside.





	Miniscule

It really was the small things that mattered. Certainly, we didn’t look like much from the outside eye. Perhaps if one looked at the right moment, they would have seen the heated glances, or perhaps heard the subtle (and not-so-subtle…) innuendos. But most of that could be attributed to Ghirahim’s general disposition. Perhaps my reactions might have hinted at something more – but most of the time, we looked no more than two acquaintances – friends even.

Of course that was far from the truth.

The… best description of our relationship was _carnal._ If anybody had a look under my clothes, they would see me riddled with the marks he had left on me. While, certainly, neither of us would deny any claims indicating that we _were_ more than just what the exterior was, neither did we blatantly _declare_ it.

Perhaps declaring meant showing it. Perhaps declaring meant something neither of us wanted or needed. We were quite content the way we were.

I didn’t mind that Ghirahim didn’t hold my hand around others. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t kiss me unless we were alone. Nor did I care of any other public displays of affection. We both knew just how much we meant to each other.

For it was the way he held my hand during passionate lovemaking that I yearned for, it was those searing kisses when the tension had built up that truly meant something, and it was those subtle, little almost meaningless things that could be easily missed that made my heart flutter.

The way he spoke my name. The way he would ensure it was safe for me first. The way his fingers caressed my cheek. Or the little flower in my breakfast. Or that extra pillow at my lower back in the morning. The way he occasionally treated me ever-so-delicately.

As expressive as the Demon Lord was on the exterior, it was almost amazing of the contrast of his interior.

But I suppose it was that vast difference that showed how much he cared.


End file.
